


Time

by Valgus



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate History, F/M, Historical Hetalia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3996355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valgus/pseuds/Valgus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Germany looked down at you, his blue eyes blazing with tenacity that you thought would burn you alive.</p><p>"Who... no, <i>what</i> are you? You're not human, nor you are one of us. But you're not from around here. So tell me and tell me quick; <i>what are you?</i>"</p><p>You smiled weakly, knowing that the truth you must spoke was very close to absolute nonsense, "I'm from the future and I'm about to stop you from doing the terrible things, Germany... no, Ludwig."</p><p>After Googling about World War II because of a certain anime and manga named Hetalia, you found yourself at the beginning of the biggest war in history of humankind. Lost in Europe and unable to find your way back to 2015, an accident met you with a certain man- only that man wasn't a mere man at all and you knew he was about to make his biggest mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. End

“Time is the longest distance between two places.”

― Tennessee Williams, _The Glass Menagerie_

* * *

You were always led to believe that your life would be flatly boring. Highlight of your life might involved seeing a famous person from a distance and won a single competition. You didn't expect it to be surprising or even slightly great at all. After all, you believed there was nothing special in you. You were glad enough to be ignored, because you didn't have the desire to be admired or feared.

Certainly not _feared_.

Never in your life you thought that you would end up here; with the personification of Germany looking down at you the way a modern biologist gazed down at a living dodo bird, while his men—at least seven officers in uniform with Luger guns on their rather shaky hands—aiming at you. You stared at them, too tired to actually trembling in fear. Your head was quite dizzy and you wanted nothing more than an aspirin and a glass of water, but you would probably swallow bullets instead.  
  
You raised your hand and sighed, trying to explain, “Look—“  
  
One of the officer released the bullet out of surprise and you flinched slightly, desperately thinking 'Well, there it is, I'm going to hell right at this second.' But then, the bullet just go past you before loudly landed on the wall, creating tiny whole and cracks. You could hear your heart thumping loudly and you were just as surprised as everyone, since they looked twice as scared than before.  
  
Germany shouted something angrily in German to the officer who shot. Still with a scowl on his face, he returned his gaze at you. You never saw someone looking at you like that—like you’re the manifestation of word ‘impossible’ who sat on an uncomfortable bed. You almost believed that he might as well be staring at someone else.  
  
You took another deep breath, trying to calm yourself down, which was apparently wasn't too hard when you just got the knowledge that apparently you were bullet-proof.  
  
“Well… I guess you can’t kill something that hasn’t exist yet,” you muttered, more to yourself, trying to make sense out of this absurd situation.  
  
Neither Germany nor his men seem to know how to react to your mutter, so you gestured at Germany with your head and spoke, “Can I have a word with you? Just you? You can keep pointing a gun at me, just… I think I will be less nervous if I didn’t have eight guns pointed at me.”  
  
Germany didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t look like he was unable to understand your words.  
  
You sighed again, _“Bitte?” 'Please?'_ in your sad attempt to speak in German.  
  
The blond nation nodded, lowered his hand, and sent his men away in German. When the last man closed the door, he still stood at the same spot, his expression was clearly saying that he didn’t know what to do.  
  
You stared back at him, tired again for reasons you had yet to understand. Perhaps time-travelling would indeed be a tiring thing to do.  
  
Germany took a step forward and you knew it took everything he had to do that.  
  
“Who…” he gulped. “No— _what_ are you?”  
  
You blinked and he continued.  
  
“What are you?” Germany repeated, clearly agitated and stressed. “I know you’re not one of us—“ not one of personified country, you could guess that already “—but you’re not human either—you’re not from around here.”  
  
You smiled weakly. No living creature escaped flying bullet pointed at blank range against them yet somehow has enough mass to sit and lift things. You didn’t even understand yourself, yet there you were, thinking about the best way to explain to Germany about your situation.  
  
“Would you believe me if I told you that I’m from the future?” you watched his expression carefully.  
  
He looked mildly shocked, before scared. You offered him a kind smile.  
  
You would be scared as well if there were someone from the future, for they hold the knowledge of what yet to happen. You didn’t know what kind of person who would appear from the future in your time, but you had the idea that you might look rather weird with anime shirt and jeans in 1930s.  
  
Germany seemed to have decided that you were no threat, because his expression softened and he was calm enough to ask, “From what year do you—will you come from?”  
  
You didn’t expect that level of English tenses from him. “2015.”  
  
There was a slight fascination on Germany’s face, “So you travelled back more than eighty years in time.”  
  
You shrugged, “You could say so.”  
  
Germany looked like he wanted to laugh even though you could easily sense that he was mortified, “That is _not_ possible.”  
  
You rubbed your forehead in frustration before you sighed, “I know. Yet here I am. Listen, I have no bad intention whatsoever. I just want to go home—space and time-ly speaking. I—“ your flow of words was stopped by a loud ding from your pocket.  
  
Instinctively, you fished your iPhone out and looked at the reminder you set yourself to prepare gift for your mother’s birthday in two weeks.  
  
Your mother hadn’t born yet at the current moment.  
  
The thought was so immensely insane that you couldn’t help but chuckle.  
  
Only when you heard a grunt you remembered that you weren’t alone. You looked at Germany, who eyed the sleek machine on your hand with gaze so intense he might as well tried to burn it with his vision.  
  
“I’m sorry,” you waved your iPhone before slipping it inside your pocket again. “It’s a reminder I set…” You went silent as you realised that there was no way what you were about to explain would make any sense to the tall man in front of you.  
  
“What is that?” he asked, after several awkward seconds.  
  
“It’s a mobile phone,” you answered, thinking rather ferociously on sentence _I didn’t sign up for this kind of conversation_. “To be more specific, it’s an iPhone.”  
  
Germany looked like a child who had been told the phrase ‘financial bubble’; the words are there, but there’s a very little sense to make. The crinkles between his eyebrows only got worse as he muttered his next sentence.  
  
“What is ‘iPhone’?”

You tried to hold your groan.

You just wanted to _go home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, this is more of a 'preview'. The next chapter will probably talk about your life, your travel, and then your first meeting with Germany.
> 
> This is a work of fiction and I am in now way meaning to portray the actual history here. I tried my best to read about time-travelling and, most of all, World War II and how it can be prevented, but even if I read all literature that there is, I know I have no power to actually understand the war neutrally and thoroughly.
> 
> I have plenty to go. I don't know how many chapters this would take. Planning can be my downfall. (But isn't it fun to meet everyone on Hetalia while you're around?)
> 
> Thank you for reading the first chapter of "Time".


	2. Borne

The summer air felt unpleasant since it started swarming your room through open window. You had been staying in the same spot in your house for at least two weeks, scrolling down through your favourite website. 

Nothing seemed to be different from the last summer, where you spent the majority of your time lazying around and accomplish pretty much nothing. At least there was Hetalia, anime and manga a friend introduced to you.

Googling information for something you currently read or watch was almost mandatory for you, but to search about Hetalia means to read about history. Now, you were scrolling through the Wikipedia page of World War II, examining the contrast between comical, bright-coloured Hetalia with the grim photograph of the past, in the deadliest conflict in human history. 

Tired looking at black and white photos of airplanes and men in uniforms, you closed your eyes and let yourself drift away to a light sleep.

You didn’t know how long you slept, but you knew this; you fell asleep on a couch, not on grass. The plant tickled your elbows and nose, forcing you to wake up to meadow and old, picturesque village in the distance.

This was a strange dream, you thought, yawning and rubbing your eyes. 

The wind felt cool and comfortable against your face and hair. The dream felt so real, but you never question a dream. You stood, eyeing the tree behind you, before making your way to the village.

The first person you encountered just outside the village was a thin woman with short brown hair. Her hair was styled so that her forehead was visible, letting you observe her green, widening eyes as she looked at you. She stood still, letting the wind blew her long skirts.

“Hello,” you smiled nervously.

She looked at you the way a priest looks at teenager twerking.

A man appeared from the closest house, shouting something to the woman, who replied using language you were sure wasn’t English. The woman left you after the man shouted his reply and you could guess they were speaking German.

You followed her, your eyes looking for a sign that might says thing like “Welcome to Old Village, where you can experience the past and take cool photos to be uploaded to Instagram” or something, but what you got was more people—more German, but that didn’t limit the possibility that you were in Austria or Switzerland—looking at you and shouting. 

Perhaps they were complaining, but you could only catch so little and the wind started to feel so cold you wish you bring your jacket to your dream. At least you wore your favourite Converse here. Looking at your shoes on under you, you heard a sound of metal being dragged in the ground and saw that some men brought out their pitchforks.

They pulled a circle around you, making you stuttered, “Now wait a minute…” 

One of them shouted something that you caught as ‘Briton’ and started to inched closer. This dream was slowly turning into a nightmare. You turned around and ran as fast as you could.

Those men with pitchfork were larger and faster than you. It didn’t take long until they caught up with your pace. The realisation that running to the open meadow only made you more vulnerable sank in. Panicking, you ran even faster—and trip.

You tripped to a concrete cement, to a street filled with parade adorned with Nazi emblem on red flag. There was old, dark cars and people cheering on the side of the road and confetti raining to your face. You only had seconds to gasp to this bizarre settings. Then people started to scream—again, in German—telling you get off the road. 

So you did.

Somehow, even though your feet felt like they were made out of rocks, you jumped to the end of the street, in front of a car filled with a certain man with a very distinctive square moustache and another man who sat stiffly, his posture and muscled physique perfect with pale blond hair almost fully hidden beneath military hat and piercing blue eyes that looked at you in horror.

They shouted. Everyone shouted.

The noise was deafening and you realised you already cried, your vision blurry with tears. In what kind of nightmare did you go to a place where Nazi could have parade? You were already on your feet again, your heart beating madly on your chest that you felt physical pain, but you were ready to be crushed by the car, yet ready to escape again.

Unfortunately, the next thing you knew, your vision went dark.

*)*

You woke up.

Your back hurt and it felt like someone had tried to fry your hand. Combination of those two definitely wasn’t a good situation to wake up to, but there you were, on a sad, hard hospital bedroom. You still had your shirt and jeans on, but someone had took off your Converse and socks.

Eyeing the room you were in as you rubbed sleep from your eyes, you saw no other bed than the one you slept on. There was set of table and chair with piled of papers, several racks and cupboards filled with books and more papers, board with keys, and a window to blaring light from the outside. It looked more like guard room on some sort of office than a hospital, since the pain on your hand and your sudden loss of consciousness made you believe that you were ill or something.

You blinked and slowly taking everything in. However you look at it, the table and chair looked like a set you’d see on old movie. In other notes, somehow you were still in this bizarre dream of breathing in sometime before 1950s.

That was strange, since you believed another sleep would wake you up.

Or perhaps this was some kind of Inception shit and you needed to find your totem to make sure you weren’t actually dreaming.

Clenching your hand—they didn’t feel so bad anymore; if anything, they felt a little cold now—you decided that at least you would take a look through that blindingly bright window. But then someone entered.

You thought it would be someone, but there were at least half a dozen of man in same uniform, followed by one with with different uniform and more badges on his broad chest.

Instinctively, you moved to sitting position.

You weren’t sure why or how, but the tallest man with most badges who stood on the room’s existence demanded respect in the most confusing way possible without even batting an eyelash.

You sat there, confused and exhausted, but ready to fight your way back to your bedroom and MacBook. It took you awhile to actually look at your guests.

_“You…”_ you muttered almost breathlessly as realisation sank on your mind.

A pair of pale blue eyes were looking at you with cold authority, but then your sight travel to slight wrinkles between his eyebrows, to his wide forehead to stiff blond hair and a uniform you knew a little too well. Add that with a well-built, muscled body and the perfect way to stand, you knew exactly who he was.

The man in front of you was no other than the personification of Germany, Ludwig.

“Wow. I know you. You looked so—“ _3D. Three-dimensional._ “… real,” the words escaped your lips so quickly you might as well thinking out loud.

You knew that Hetalia was just a rather silly manga from Japan. Of course, the whole nation business was very serious, but this was the last thing you truly expected; to see Germany in person, as in an actual person from the wrinkles between his eyebrows to the way he moved, in front of you. You could see shadow fell on the other side of his head and you repeated on thinking how 3D, how real he looked.

His expression was still nonexistent. 

_“Sie…”_ he started, his eyes twitched a little. “No, _you_ —state your business and explain what you did.” He spoke English in a way a child was being forced to repeat promise they didn’t like to make. Then you recalled vaguely on big, big war between Britain and Germany on World War I.

You had decided that somehow—you weren’t quite sure how—you ended up on sometime before World War II, in a time where Nazi could have their parade on the road mercilessly. You picked up the bits from clothes and hairstyle of people you saw so far as well. Then you remembered your little adventure on the meadow, village, and then in front of Germany’s car.

You wanted to answer, but you also wanted to say something—in the end, you ended up saying nothing, earning yourself guns being cocked by the officers who stood around Germany.

You weren’t sure what you smoked—though, really, drug was never your thing—but you were certain you would never smoke it again.

*)*

“See, iPhone is a technology of the future,” you sighed. “I don’t think this will be your concern for now.” You waved the little sleek thing on your hand before forcing it back to your jeans’ pocket. You were a little surprised they didn’t search you, but you knew that you could dodge a bullet if you wanted to.

Germany nodded. He didn’t say anything and you could see him a little lost. There was a small pride in knowing that you mess up this painfully stern man, but then he quickly recollected his posture and demanded in authoritative voice, “I am ordered to bring you to a safe place.”

“What?” you couldn’t help but to chuckle. “I thought you guys were mad at me for ruining the parade—I didn’t ruin it, did I?”

His expression spelled ‘your English is a little unorthodox’ but he answered, “No. Not quite. Now please come.” He turned his body halfway to the door behind him and you glanced at your socks and shoes.

“… And what if I don’t want to?” you asked, wondering how many options do you have.

Germany glared at you and you knew he was angry—or at least you thought he was angry. To be frank, he looked scary when he was angry. You had no idea how North Italy cope up with angering this man all the time.

“You couldn’t make me,” you spoke again without really realising what you said—only to remember your new, strange ability. “… I-if I don’t want to.”

He was still staring at you and you knew if you were just you instead of this time-traveller you would already piss your pants or trembling so much you might gave birth to an earthquake.

“You are correct,” he huffed, voice heavily accented. “That’s why I ask your permission to have you follow me to safer place.”

You raised your eyebrows, shrugged, and started to wear your socks, “‘Thought you guys are going to interrogate me or stuff.” 

Your eyes were on your hands and feet, when he spoke, “I believe you’ve already explain your situation quite clearly. I must report this to my leader later while we figure out what to do with you.”

“‘What to do’ with me, huh?” you chuckled, tying your shoes before springing into the ground and stood straight.

Man, Germany was tall.

Like, really tall—especially after you walked toward him, feeling sillier than ever for wearing anime shirt when he wore a perfectly tailored uniform.

Both of you came out to the men from before saluting Germany before he climbed up to an antique, dark car. (Well, it wasn’t really ‘antique’ in this era.)

“Sick,” you muttered to yourself as you took a good look to the car you were about to step in. You might not be an expert on car, but you knew a beautiful ride when you saw one. 

“I beg your pardon?” Germany eyed you suspiciously as you climbed to sit next to him.

“No, I mean this car is really really cool,” you gestured around. “By cool, I mean—great. Beautiful. Uh— _schön_?”

Unexpectedly, you saw a shadow of smile on his lips. “Hm,” Germany mumbled before looking away.

The car started moving through a picturesque little town with beautiful architecture and people with old fashion on the sidewalks. You were equal excited and scared at the same time.


End file.
